


i can still see you standing there (summer tangled in your hair)

by myillusionsgone



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, Gen, Murder Mystery, Nobility, purposefully vague about the time setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myillusionsgone/pseuds/myillusionsgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Who is the betrayer? Who's the killer in the crowd? The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound. || Murder Mystery AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

** we were the victims of ourselves **

* * *

 

The winter residence was, fittingly for both the season and the ball’s occasion, covered under thick layers of snow. It was the home of the Frost family, had been for countless generations and traditionally, their Winter Ball marked the temporary end of the ball season because it was always on the last Saturday before Christmas and New Year’s – two events usually celebrated in the circle of family and close friends – and everyone who had wealth and title either was invited or would have wanted to be.

Therefore, everything had to be perfect. Which was why the lady of the house, Ur Milkovich née Frost, was currently in her dressing room, touching up her makeup and her hairdo while her maid was helping her into her dress for the evening and laced up the corset to the point that the woman thought, for a moment, that either her back would be broken or she would suffocate and die a terrible death.

However, the Frost Winter Ball was all about representation of wealth and social standing and there was no way out for her. Especially not since she was still rather young – a mere twenty-three – and was therefore considered to be one of the prettier women at the ball. After all, it had been considered a scandal when she had passed two seasons before her parents had found a husband fitting for her, a husband matching her wealth and title.

She scoffed as she checked her appearance in the mirror before she headed downstairs, her shoulders straight and her lips curled into a polite smile – she was already in the act she would maintain for the rest of the evening because it was what was expected of her.

The young – although this was surely relative – heiress to the Frost fortune was rather short and petite in her stature but her genes and her hobbies had granted her an impressive physique. She was rarely sick and the last time someone had called her ‘frail’, she had proven them wrong by being one of the four participants of the annual January Ride who had not come down with a cold after the party had been caught in a snow storm.

This event had been the reason for her nickname as ‘ice princess’, an epithet that amused her on most days and rarely got much of a reaction out of her. She had also been named one of the prettiest ladies in the last article although her questionable social conduct in her younger years had allegedly spoiled her rating – not that she had minded this at all, she knew that she was worth more than just a number and what had been said about her supposedly problematic behaviour had not only been true, it had also barely scratched the surface of what she had actually done over the years. She was from the northern area of the country, after all, where rules were easily bent a little from time to time.

Tonight, however, she had promised herself to be on her best behaviour. She was wearing a dress made of red velvet – she had remarked that the colour reminded her of blood when the tailor had brought it over – and she felt like she was filling the description of a lady perfectly, for a welcome change. She liked the dress well enough because although she had hoped for something lighter, maybe for a silken dress, she had long accepted that she would be wearing velvet in winter because silk was not warm enough in the eyes of most people.

At least, the dress was red and went well with the family jewellery she was wearing for the occasion and the garnet bracelet that had been a present from a long time ago. She would be a flame amidst the darker colours most of her guests would be wearing and no one would forget that it had been her who had invited them all for the last get-together before everyone who travel to their family homes to spend the next days in peace and with the family.

She stopped for a moment on the stairs, not just to scan the room to see who had already arrived but also to allow the people who were already in the room to fall into the respectful silence that usually accompanied the arrival of the host and herself to gaze over the room, briefly taking note of her husband’s absence which caused an irritated expression to flicker over her face because tonight, he had the sole duty of being on her  side at all times, greeting the guests with her and trying not to make a fool out of himself for a change.

The entrance hall, however, looked exactly like she had wanted it to which made her smile appear as she walked down the stairs and she smiled genuinely as she shook the hand of Lady Heartfilia who was looking stunning as usual in her sapphire gown. They had gone to the same finishing school when they had been younger and they had remained in contact even after their respective marriages. There were friendship made for mutual gain – sometimes, being associated with the right people could improve the own social standing – and there were friendships formed out of genuine affection and even as Lady Frost, Ur had always preferred the second kind over the first. Especially since aside from _royalty_ , there was nothing above her family’s standing.

“It’s beautiful, truly!” the blonde exclaimed as she leaned in and kissed Ur’s cheek with the familiarity only a true friend could muster. “You really surpassed yourself.”

“Ah, thank you, Layla,” the black-haired woman replied as she nodded at her friend’s husband. “Lord Heartfilia, welcome to the estate. I hope your journey was smooth.”

The man gave her a curt nod before he looked around and frowned. “I haven’t seen Bane yet,” he stated calmly as he pressed his lips together. “He is here, of course, yes?”

“Yes, he should be, at least,” she replied, her face shortly betraying her discontentment with her husband’s absence. They were not fond of each other – their marriage was founded on pillars far from personal affection for the spouse – but she would have expected for him to be present during what was the most important event of the Winter Season, especially because she had reminded him more than once.

“He’s probably in the wine cellar,” Jude Heartfilia said but his chuckle was artificial and it did nothing to ease the mood because right now, the lady of the house was _furious_.

“Probably,” she confirmed before she tapped a footman’s shoulder and forced herself to smile again. “Could you please go and see if you can find my husband somewhere? Tell him that Lord Heartfilia arrived and wishes to see him.”

“Maybe he just got lost in the mansion,” Layla said, desperately trying to smooth out what might be a scandal in the making because no one among them had any illusions of what Ur would do if her husband would have the nerve to bed another woman on the day of the Winter Ball. Scandal be damned, the marriage could and would end over something this disrespectful because the daughter of the Frost family had been biting her tongue for a while now. Her family was an old one and pride was very important to them and if Lord Bane Milkovich would indeed insult his wife to this degree on this important day, the consequences for him would be dire – and that was something everyone who knew the lady was aware of.

“I hope so,” Ur said coolly as she turned away, crossing the room to get to another familiar face. She had not seen the man her family had taken in after his family had suffered a horrible fate in two years – he had joined the military to fight for the crown after he had come of age – but if there was a scandal brewing, she would need him by her side throughout the evening.

“It’s a honour for you to greet me personally, dear,” he said as he rested a hand on her shoulder before he raised an eyebrow. “Is there something the matter, Ur?”

She was silent for a moment before she sighed deeply. “Bane went missing,” she said as she crossed her arms and pressed her lips together. “I sent out a footman to fetch him but if…”

“Understood,” he said with a nod as he sighed deeply. “If things go South, it’s better for both of us not to have left the room at all.”

“Exactly,” she said as she sighed deeply, reaching for a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing servant. “I’ll tell the servants to keep you and me both informed about unusual events – well, things more unusual than the old Lord Dreyar trying to grope a young heiress.”

“Poor Ivan got to be mortified,” her foster brother replied as he ordered a glass of whiskey, rolling his eyes at her disapproving glare. “Dear, you know that this mansion is right in the middle between some of the best producers for whiskey so let me have this.”

“As I do expect you to help me cover up a scandal, I need you sober,” she said as she massaged her temples, starting to regret that she had allowed her maid to use so much makeup on her face. On the other hand, no one could see how nervous she was getting.

She was gambling with more than just her own reputation here, her family’s honour was at stake and she was not going to waste that away because she would never be able to handle the guilt. Her family was one of the oldest in the country, their origins could be trace d back into the days of old, into the time before there had been a king or a queen. This was the responsibility she was facing, what she had to protect. And if protecting her family meant to cover up whatever had happened to her husband as a tragic accident, she would do just that. The life of Bane Milkovich was nothing compared to the time-honoured tradition of her family.

Once this was over, once she had found out why her no-good-husband had not shown, she would have to be able to pass the hallways where her ancestors’ pictures were everywhere without feeling like she had been the one to bring down the family in one night. A scandal could end them and this was something she would never be able to forgive herself for because she had been brought up with the knowledge rooted firmly in her mind that one day, she might have to make a difficult decision, that she might have to make a mistake on purpose.

“We should tell your grandmother,” the man by her side said as he rested his hand on her shoulder. “She needs to know about this.”

The lady shook her head and bit her lip, toying with the bracelet around her wrist. “No,” she replied as she shook her head. “There’s something else we have to do … we need to think who – aside from the obvious – would have a reason to harm him.”

He laughed softly and she glared at him.

“What on earth is so damn hilarious?” she hissed, the curse escaping her before she could hold it back. She was a lady and ladies did never curse but she was willed to plead unusual circumstances right now because she was on edge.

“It was the way you said aside from the obvious just when an old friend of yours strolled in,” he replied as he grabbed her shoulders to turn her towards the entrance. “I thought he had been formally disinvited from all events.”

She did not give him any satisfaction by blushing and rather shrugged, her face a mask of politeness and yet it carried a trace of _‘oops, so I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar’_ as she spoke again. “I suppose that I must’ve forgotten about that,” she said as she brushed back a strand of her hair. “But for him to be here … it might be problematic. If something happened to Bane while he’s around, he’ll be the prime suspect – _instantly_.”

“You sound nearly worried,” he remarked as he raised an eyebrow, his gaze knowing. “So I suppose that it wasn’t like you killed Bane and now hope to get away with it, yes?”

“If I had wanted to kill him and make it look like I didn’t do it, it would have been a tragic accident,” she admitted, briefly musing why she even still tried to lie to people who knew her better than she had ever known herself – maybe, because on a good day, she got away with it because they were merciful enough to let her. But then, most people who kept their eyes open knew that she had never been content with her parents’ decision to marry her off to a man who did not understand her at all.

“When you didn’t want to frame him, you might want to tell him what’s happening so he can sort out his alibi, Ur,” he warned and she sighed deeply as she nodded and slipped away from his side and back into the hallway that would bring her to the part of the room where the newcomer was standing, hoping to get there without being seen, without causing the first – if minor – scandal of the evening. But she did not get there because before she knew, there was a rustle of cloth behind her and then, a wooden cricket bat connected with her head, knocking her out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

** and though it's just a line to you (for me it’s true) **

* * *

 

She came to with a jolt, her head hurting. It took her less than a second to realise where she was – in her bedroom, still dressed into the gown she had been wearing beforehand. Her head hurt and as she sat up too fast, the room started to spin around her. But all in all, she was as fine as she could be, given that she had just taken a hit to the head. Maybe it was good that she had had her fair share of accidents when she had been a little girl so that her skull was used to injuries because as she attempted to reconstruct what had happened, not a single moment was missing.

“Easy, easy,” a voice said and she exhaled, resting her hands on her knees as she sighed deeply.

“Gildarts,” she said as she looked at him. “What has happened?”

“You won’t like to hear this,” he said as he got up from where he had been previously sitting. “So, your footman found Bane … poor bastard was strangled and got his throat cut.”

She flinched as she briefly mused whether or not she would have to pretend that she was mourning the husband she had never been able to stand. “…so we’re done for,” she muttered as she buried her head in her hands.

“Well, I tried some damage control,” he said as he shrugged. “For example, no one knows about it yet. And when I found you, I said that your maid must’ve laced your corset too tight.”

She felt a rush of thankfulness for his quick thinking. Her family had taken him in when he had been a child and technically, he had been supposed to be her older brother’s playmate but Matthew had died in the following summer after a riding accident and so she had been the one to play with the orphan boy who had been three summers her senior. She had dutifully cried when he had departed to join the army and she had written countless letters, making him her sole confidant in matters that had been dear to her heart but improper for a lady like her. She had always trusted Gildarts Clive with whatever secrets she had had at the respective age and she was happy to find that her faith had always been in the right place, that he had not let her down to get himself out of trouble.

“There is something else, isn’t there?” she asked quietly as dread grew inside her stomach.

“When I brought you here, I ran into your father … and had to explain things and he took one look at the present guests, spotted Silver Fullbuster and decided that he found the culprit,” the red-haired man said quickly, perhaps because he thought that it would make it easier for Ur to handle that she had condemned someone she had always cared about to a horrible fate – and Gildarts was the only one who had ever known everything about this because he had been the only one she had trusted with the truth, a truth that could have ruined her years ago and was definitively doing it now.

“I really shouldn’t have invited him,” she muttered as she got out of her bed, slipping out of her heeled shoes and into a more comfortable pair. “But this leaves us no choice.”

“If you’re thinking that we should investigate this crime and find the true culprit, I have to say that I am proud of your ability to forget about the way your husband is in the wine cellar for the last time in his existence and—” the man stopped himself and awkwardly scratched his neck before he sighed deeply. “Too soon?”

“A little,” she said as she sighed deeply. “So, no one can leave the estate without being seen and father agreed to cover it up so that it won’t be noticed by anyone else.”

“You want to talk with him,” Gildarts said as he helped her with the bodice of her dress, loosening the laces a bit so the excuse stood valid and no one would suspect anything. “This is hardly a good idea, Ur. You haven’t talked to him in god knows how many months.”

“I know, I know,” she said as she rearranged her hair, the hit she had taken had knocked out some of the needles. “But … he deserves to know that not everyone things that he killed Bane.”

“Just for the record, out of all the excuses you ever made to see someone, this is by far the worst,” he said as he opened the door for her and dragged her along. “But I saw this coming so I investigated where your father locked him up … and even stole the key already.”

“And you always wondered why I knew that you’d go far,” she replied as she followed him swiftly, her skirts rustling as they moved down the hallway. “You think he’s going to talk?”

Gildarts muttered something under his breath, something that sounded that he did not survive a war and that he did not return as a war hero to deal with her problems before he sighed deeply. “I’m seeing this just once and I’ll deny ever saying this but,” he gave her a crooked smirk, “if a girl broke me out of my temporary cell after I got just accused of killing her husband, I’d tell her everything she wanted to know – especially when she’s pretty and … last I heard was that you still make the Ten Prettiest Noblewomen although you’re, well, _were_ married.”

She rolled her eyes at him, biting back the comment that she had not just ‘made the list’ but that she had been on the third place, right after Layla – and this had flattered her ego considerably because usually, women dropped out one by one after they got married. Well, Ur had always made it her mission to look immaculate whenever she was in public. Her family was not just old, they were rumoured to have been royalty once upon a time.

And everyone knew that being noble brought duties into the life of any person of blue blood.

“I’m certain that I’ll have a lot of fun with this conversation,” she muttered as she massaged her temples before she looked at the door Gildarts was unlocking. “How cliché is it to lock the _suspect_ up in the music room?” she scoffed as she entered, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You didn’t just accuse your father of originality, did you?” Gildarts asked as he locked the door behind them and rested both hands on her shoulders, a gesture that had carried on from the days of their childhood and that still made her feel safe and protected.

“Kind of sad that I got to be accused of having killed your husband for you to say hello,” the familiar voice of Lord Silver Fullbuster came from where he was sitting by the piano and it took her entire self-discipline not to just turn around and leave again because it had not even been twelve seconds and he was already getting under her skin – which was a new record, one she could have done without. But the way he had been able to get to her, no matter how much she had tried to keep him out had been the reason why she had been so interested in him in the first place. She would never have guessed that she would be foolish enough to develop feelings for someone who would always be out of her reach but he had proven her wrong.

“It’s kind of insulting to you that people really think that you’d allow yourself to be caught, no?” she replied, not missing a single beat, as she nodded at Gildarts. “We’ve come to break you out of this … cell … if you help us prove your own innocence.”

He was silent for a moment, seemingly dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly at her. “Because you actually care or because you are worried that I’d take you down with me?” he asked as he uncrossed his arms, letting his fingers dance over the ivory keyboard of the piano.

“I know that you have a son,” she said as she leaned against Gildarts as the room started to spin around her again, “and I don’t want innocent children to get caught up in this mess.”

It was difficult for her to remain on topic, not to let her thoughts wander off because the last time they had been in this very room, she had been the one sitting at the piano, her hair undone and her clothes crumpled before she had spent the hours beforehand raging against everything and nothing. She had been hurt, that day. Hurt because her opinion had not mattered at all, hurt because she had been once more reminded that no matter what she did, she would never be more than just the daughter, that she would always been pushed around on the political chess board. He had been the one to find her, then, and he had not said much, had just poured whiskey into two glasses and had just listened to her while she had rambled on and on about the unfairness of her life until she had fallen asleep. It had been a moment that had taught her that outer appearances could easily be deceiving.

“So you still got enough of a heart to keep kids out of the line of fire,” Silver muttered as he got up and straightened his jacket, approaching her before he bowed ironically. “You nearly got me to think that your heart is as cold as the winter you seem to use to keep yourself safe.”

If he was someone of lesser importance, she would have marched straight out and turned the key herself but sadly, he was someone she did not want to see end up beheaded for a crime he did not commit and so she rolled her eyes at him and sighed deeply. They had not seen each other in quite some time and the last letter she had written had been to express her condolences after his wife had died in childbirth but ever since, they had kept their distance.

“I happen to be fond of the cold,” she said as she crossed her arms and looked over her shoulder at Gildarts. “Please tell me that you completed the list, yes?”

“As we agreed upon a while ago, it would be easier to figure out who has no reason to kill him,” the marine officer said as he rolled his eyes at her. She had expected such an answer and it was probably true. She could not think of a single person who liked Bane Milkovich enough to want for him to stay alive because even people who did not have much of an opinion about the man would benefit more from his death than they ever would have while he had been still alive.

“Don’t you have a lady friend who might know more?” Ur asked as she raised an eyebrow. It would be naïve of Gildarts to assume that she would not know about these things. There had been a very unpleasant moment for her when she had decided to spontaneously visit Gildarts when she had been in his town and had suddenly been face-to-face with a scantily clad blonde which had been highly awkward.

“How many times am I going to apologise for that before you’ll finally let it go?” Gildarts asked as he huffed and let go of her so that they could move away from the door and actually sit down properly. “And I didn’t invite you over that early so it was your fault.”

Ur rolled her eyes as she rested her hand against his shoulder. “You have someone who can help, right?” she asked as she lowered her voice into a nearly secretive one. “C’mon, Gil, this isn’t the moment for false modesty. This is a matter of utmost importance to all of us.”

“I hate it when you talk like this because nothing good ever came out of it, seriously,” he muttered as he sighed deeply and brushed her hand off his shoulder with a swift movement. “Yeah, I know someone. She’s a detective’s daughter … she might be willed to help us, especially when I tell her what’s at stake for all of us right now.”

“Do what you have to do but don’t go and promise her your hand in marriage or something as reward,” she said as she got up to her feet, flicking a loose thread of Silver’s shoulder. “If she requires … motivation, I have enough money to pay her.”

“I actually did promise her that already,” Gildarts muttered and she twirled around, nearly slapping Silver because this was _outrageous_ and she needed to hear everything about it.

“You’re a dead man,” she declared before she dragged them both off. She had to chat with her father about how this house was hers and how he had no permission to lock up her guests.

“Nice bracelet,” Silver remarked with a dry grin and she glared at him as they approached her father’s study where they would find the sole telephone in the house. But first, they found a dead body and it took Silver’s quick wit to keep her from screaming because from the chandelier over the door dangled her father’s body. And although her scream could not leave the body because it was trapped by the hand that was covering her mouth, a tear fell.


	3. Chapter 3

**those summer nights seem long ago**

* * *

 

Her maid was brushing her hair because her hands were trembling too much for her to arrange her hair without help. She had changed out of the red dress and into a more understated one in the oddest shade of blue-grey. She knew who had eyes in a similar colour but she decided not to think about it because they had a murderer on the loose and the aftermath of her father’s and her husband’s death was hardly the right time for her to entertain thoughts about someone who was two rooms away from her, getting changed as well because there had been blood on his shirt after the men had taken her father off the chandelier.

She had bribed one of the footmen to clean up the scene and to keep an eye on the guests but this was not going to help much. They had to track down the killer and they had to prevent a scandal. Her father’s death could be chalked up as an accident as he might have fallen and landed in the chandelier. Bane’s death would be more difficult to cover up as anything but murder but Gildarts had suggested that they could mention some of the man’s less estimable hobbies to people who could not keep a secret so that the scandal would not touch Ur and her family.

A sharp knock on the door dispelled her thoughts and she nodded at the maid. Usually, she did not allow any visitors in her dressing room but right now, she was in no mood to maintain the façade of the untouchable ice princess because she had a heavy burden to carry and it would likely only be Gildarts, anyway.

(It was Silver.)

“Looking good, _milady_ ,” he said, combining his crooked smile with the proper form of address to keep the maid confused and to throw her back into the days of the past when it had his standard greeting for her and only for her. It had been not necessarily easier in those days, however. True, unsolved murders were a novelty in their lives but secrecy was something they both had learned a long time ago.

Being able to keep a secret was important in the world they lived in because otherwise, they would be torn apart by the gossips before they could take a single step to defend themselves. She had learned secrecy from the best teacher there was and she considered herself an expert.

“Always the flatterer,” she replied as she nodded at the maid, silencing dismissing her because all servants at the estate were trained to become one with the background, making it far too easy that they were still in the room. And the last thing she needed now was the accusation of adultery, especially not after surely quite a few people had witnessed how her father had removed Silver from the group before.

Back in the days, it had been widely known that she had favoured the company of her foster brother and of the young Duke of Gentiana and when she had spent her first season after she had come of age sulking that both men had been deployed, many had assumed that she were to marry one of them and it had been speculated that it would likely be the duke because her foster brother already had ties to her family and did not need to be bound to it by marriage. If Ur were to be honest about the matter, she had hoped that the rumours would turn out to be true and that she would be married off for a title rather than for money.

Sadly, her parents had placed the priorities differently and while at the time, Silver had had a title and quite a nice set of other accomplishments to his name, he did not have the amount of money her father had had an eye on and so he had been out of question quickly.

(Much to Ur’s genuine dismay, she would have much preferred to marry for a title because those who were old nobility could understand her way of dealing with all those matters.)

(Bane had never understood why it had been so important for her to honour the traditions her family had had for centuries and she had been furious with him more than once when he had called her grandmother a noisy old hag, disrespecting the old lady gravely.)

“One of us had to stay the same,” he remarked drily as he sat down on the chaise longue, one eyebrow raised and his lips still curled into a wicked smirk – a smirk she should not find this attractive, not after all those years and not after her constant claim that she had grown immune to it.

(She never had, no one ever had done this.)

“Good to see that it was you,” she said as she opened her jewellery box and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “I hope that you know that your mere presence here is a scandal in the making.”

“That would require one of your maids betraying you, _milady_ , and we both know that this would never happen,” he replied with a bored yawn before his facial expression turned downright arrogant, which sadly made him look even more attractive which was really not fair on her. “Unless, of course, your oh so innocent remark was a challenge for me.”

She rolled her eyes at the way he stressed _milady_ but refused to grant him the satisfaction of truly reacting to it. They both knew that she was not fond of him calling her that and this was exactly why he made a point out of using the expression. “You will love the table decoration at dinner,” she said casually as she closed the hook of her necklace behind her head. “I suppose you have many fond memories on blue hydrangeas, no?”

She had spent a small fortune on the flowers as the colour was rare and then, it was winter and flowers always were more expensive in winter but she had been in an odd mood the day she had gone over the decoration with the respective members of her staff and she had allowed herself to create a small trip down memory lane. For a moment, she mused if Gildarts had already caught the reference to their childhood days in the menu or if she would have to tell him about it.

In the mirror, she saw how Silver raised an eyebrow before he chuckled. “I don’t see you discussing the reasoning behind this with the dearly departed,” he said as he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You can be a rather vile woman. I ought to feel fortunate for never crossing you, I’d say.”

She smirked back as she shifted her glittering headdress in her hair. “I haven’t seen the dining room yet but if it all looks the way it’s supposed to, it should look divine,” she said as she rose to her feet. “I sent a message to my grandmother, she shall tell people who ask that Bane had to surprisingly leave.”

“Well, it’s not really a lie,” he said as he got up as well. “The problem lies with his return, I suppose. Because he won’t come back.”

And she could not help but smile at this fact because for the first time since she had been married off to a man who could hardly have cared less about her as a person, she felt like herself again. It was hardly healthy to think this way and she doubted that it was the appropriate reaction to someone’s death but as they walked down the hallway, she remembered long summers in the estate her family had by the sea, remembered cashmere blankets and crimson sunsets and the taste of wine on her tongue. It had been fun to take long walks with Layla along the shore because the duties of the upcoming ball season had seemed to be so far away from everything.

“Can’t say I’ll miss him,” she muttered under her breath as she checked her appearance in the mirror they passed. She looked like the heiress to the Frost fortune and this was all that was required of her now. Her family’s reputation had to survive the night and she had to defend it. She had been brought up with a mindset that put the three facts above everything else: her grandfather’s love and compassion was limitless and unconditional, her grandmother would always be the same beautiful lady she had been when she had debuted decades ago and as long as the family name remained unstained, Ur would be _safe_.

Safe from the consequences of her actions because her family could fix things for her when she messed up. But all the protection her name had offered to her had never been able to kill the loneliness she had always felt when she had been sitting in the same room as her parents while everyone else was somewhere else.

“Well, since we’re looking for positive aspects regarding his death…” Silver shrugged as he opened the door for her, ever the gentleman. “You don’t have to embarrass yourself by asking some judge to allow you to divorce him. And you’re still young; you can remarry.”

“Not too excited about that, actually,” she admitted as she absentmindedly noticed that he was still using the some cologne he had used when they had been a lifetime younger.

“Then don’t and spend your life travelling,” he suggested. “You _always_ wanted to travel, right?”

She nodded as she sighed deeply. “I could finally go see those cars everyone is talking about,” she said calmly as she shrugged and straightened her posture as they approached their destination. He was right, of course. She had always wanted to see the world, to meet people different from her, people who had other ideas. It was not about becoming someone else but about becoming someone better.

But even if she left, she would not be gone and she knew that he was aware of this. Whenever she had been called upon, she had been there. It had made her special, it had been her strength – until she had been locked away into a place where even she could no longer leave so easily.

“I actually bought one of them,” he said as he patted his vest’s pocket with a proud grin on his face. “Red as blood and fast as the wind – well, that’s what it was advertised as.”

“You make me jealous,” she said with a little pout, easing into the part of her personality that was capable of suppressing all emotions in order to be the perfect host for the party everyone would talk about for the next months. Their banter helped her and she knew that he was doing it on purpose because he knew her.

“Wasn’t my intention,” he said as he raised an eyebrow at her before he offered her his arm as they turned a corner, dodging into the last hallway. “How’s the head doing?”

“I’m alright,” she replied, her gloved hand resting on his arm. “It’s just … officially, I passed out because I couldn’t breathe properly … a corset laced too tightly.”

“Leave it to Clive to come up with excuses that are both believable and amusing,” he replied after a moment before he nodded at the servant that was waiting at the doors. “But I still think I should keep a close eye on you for the rest of the day … you might be the next.”

She stopped at the refreshment table, checking the time and plucking two flutes of champagne of the next tray that passed them. “I’d prefer to keep either you or Gildarts close at all times,” she admitted as she looked around, just too aware of the gazes that were currently trained onto them at any time. “However, it might be wiser for me to stick to Gildarts.”

“He’s currently introducing his fiancée to your grandparents, princess,” he said and for a moment, her face burned up because it had been years since he had last slipped up, since he had last used this particular nickname. “So it appears like you have to deal with me … you alright? Are you feeling feverish?”

She shook her head as she breathed calmly, hoping for her blush to subside quickly as it usually did. “Just remembered that the last time we talked like this was an awfully long time ago,” she said as she angled her body so that she was no longer looking at him. He would know what she meant – that in between then and now was more than just the time that had passed but also the events that had changed them both from the fools they had been.

“Yes, it has been a while,” he agreed as they continued their path to the table, their steps slow because the moment they reached the others, they would have to part for a while. “Just – you shouldn’t forget that we both weathered crises in the past.”

She recognised that there was more to his words than just their obvious meaning and so she slipped as she let go of his arms. “Then, we’re on the same page, once again,” she said as she nodded at him and turned towards one of the elderly noblemen who likely wanted to know where her grandparents were hiding.

A part of her yearned to be able to finally sit down and the moment she would be able to, she would ask one of the footmen for a painkiller because the bruise on her head hurt and if she was going to sit through the entire evening program – and she would have to – but for now, she was trapped in the middle of the floor, making pleasant conversation with her guests.

“Ur,” Layla said, ever the cheerful little ray of sunshine, as she grasped her arm. “It’s wonderful to see that you are well again … but if I was you, I’d let the maid go.”

“Ah, it was my own fault,” she said, playing along to the lie Gildarts had come up with. “You know the pressure, yes? Look your best and have a slim waistline or according to the gossip, you are suddenly supposed to be with child … I was a bit too vain, I’d say.”

“If you say so,” the blonde said kindly as they approached the table where others were already seated. “I was surprised to see the Duke here, to be honest. I thought he was—”

“The Winter Ball is my party,” Ur said as she sat down slowly, gracefully. “And he’s my guest.”


	4. Chapter 4

** a little murder on the dance floor calls her name **

* * *

 

After dinner, the company moved on to the ballroom and Ur found herself warding off fools who had taken note of her husband’s absence with sharp remarks and she was just getting used to it when Ivan Dreyar, a young earl, grabbed her wrist and dragged her onto the dance floor, his dark eyes serious as he looked at her – and she knew that he knew.

“Not even Milkovich leaves all of a sudden during his wife’s most important party,” the man said as he twirled around, their steps sure and steady on the smooth ground – just like the calculations they used to swap over lunch. “So either you kicked him out or something happened to him … and you try to avoid trouble.”

They had been friends for a very long time and he could afford to be blunt with her and actually, she was happy to have someone who told her the truth the way it was, someone who showed her what she was doing without any politeness because sometimes, the truth had to hurt and she trusted him to deliver this pain.

“Well, trouble is what we got into as children,” she said as she looked around in the room before she spun, her headache increasing. This was bad but she had to pull through, had to keep up the ask because when she had decided to cover it up, she had decided that she would act like nothing had happened – and everyone who knew her knew that she never missed a single dance during her own parties. “What is looming above me now is … a scandal.”

“Especially since everyone knows that your marriage was not exactly happy,” the man said with a shrug before they stepped off the floor and headed to the refreshment table. “I suppose it’s good that you have an alibi … you do have an alibi, don’t you?”

“I don’t worry about myself,” she admitted as she twirled a glass of ice water in her hands, gingerly fishing the lemon slice out of it. “Bane … had more enemies than friends.”

“Indeed,” the raven-haired man said as he looked around, a sigh escaping him. “Everyone could have decided to do him in … so many people with strong motifs…”

“Oh that would be about everyone,” she said with a scoff, massaging her temples. “You have a motif, Ivan. I have. Gildarts, Silver – _everyone_.”

“I would have suggested the duke as a potential killer but I suppose you have your reasons to think otherwise,” the earl muttered under his breath as he scanned the room again, probably looking for some. “I mean – it’s common knowledge that the duke hates Milkovich.”

Sometimes, Ur wished that it would have been less of an open secret that she had highly disapproved of her father’s choice regarding her future husband, wished that her exact words would have been less precise in terms whom she would rather marry and that the entire affair had not been in the focus of everyone’s attention because then, she could have gotten out of the mess with her dignity intact.

“What makes you think of the duke as a potential suspect?” she asked, forcing herself to sound as casual as she could muster. God, she knew exactly why but then, no one had ever had the decency to bluntly tell her what had happened because everyone felt like she had to remain sheltered from it.

They all ignored that she was the heiress to a dynasty that was old and had once been powerful and that in her veins the blood of this century old family was still boiling whenever she felt like she was being belittled for some reason – and now, she was slowly losing her patience.

She had been compared to her ancestors in the past because she shared their way of effortlessly ensuring that everything was going according to her plan – unless, of course, her husband ended up killed – and it frustrated her that after all those years, she was still treated like she was some fragile little porcelain doll.

“I suppose that you have a right to know,” the man said as a sigh escaped him. “Well, it was shortly after your engagement became known that the duke and the deceased met … and well, they had a horrible fight.”

“Oh?” she asked as she took a sip of her champagne, her eyes narrowing. She had embraced the nickname of ice princess and she had given it a deeper meaning because indeed, while her heart was still beating, it rarely showed. Emotions could be used as a weapon and she had far too many scars from fights she had thought although she had known that she would never be able to win them, although she had known that she would be the one to end up hurt.

“I suppose I can quote the duke on saying that you’d be wasted on the likes of the recently deceased,” Ivan said with a little shrug as he sighed deeply. “There was said a lot more, of course. It came down to that you’re worth more than the money that comes with marrying into your family … and then, the duke punched Milkovich.”

She knew that technically, she was supposed to look scandalised but this would require more effort than she was willed to muster now. She had to focus her acting skills on covering the scandal up because while horrible accidents could be recovered from, scandals were a lasting stain on their reputation and could not wiped away so easily. “Can’t say that surprises me,” she muttered as she smiled thinly. “Your fiancée is being bothered.”

“I suppose this is goodbye, yes?” he asked as he smiled thinly and reached for her hand, kissing it swiftly before he took a step back. “Try to stay out of trouble, your Grace.”

“I’ll try,” she said as she looked around, leaning against the next pillar while she hoped that she would spot a friendly face soon before she would end up having to talk to people who would ask invasive questions which would force her to lie and she was not necessarily in favour of that for good reasons.

“Looking for a heart to break?” Silver asked as he appeared next to her, his cheeks flushed from the cold and snow glistening on his shoulders. A part of her wanted to remind him that it was unwise to be alone while they did not know what was happening but she trusted him enough to rely on his ability to stay alive. And she had always preferred light-hearted banter over their fights.

“Wouldn’t you know that one best?” she asked amused as she tapped her closed fan against his shoulder. “We’re being watched, by the way. I suppose the old rumours are back.”

“Ah, we should give the old hags something to talk about,” he said as he held out his hand, his lips curled into a wicked smirk. “Your grandmother sent me over to dance with you.”

“God bless grandma,” she sighed as she reached for his hand and followed him onto the dance floor, her steps quick as he twirled around. “This is going to be a minor scandal, by the way.”

“Ah, the moment your darling husband didn’t show, half of the present guests who are unwed got – as your grandmother put it – fresh ideas,” he replied with a shrug as he rested his hand on her waist and pulled her closer. This was not necessarily proper but as many remembered, they went back quite some years. “Not that anyone can blame them, you look for your age. You are – how old are you now?”

She glared at him before she tightened her grip on his wrist as they nearly crashed into Gildarts and his fiancée. “You never ask a lady after her age, Silver,” she replied with a little _tsk_. “You should know that by now, seriously.”

“You once bashed your cricket bat into my head because I made a comment about your dress  you deemed inappropriate,” he said before he spun her around with far more fervour than he should – but this made her laugh because it was always nice to be treated like she was a person instead of a doll. At the same time, it was frustrating for her because she could not get into his head, could not understand where they stood at the moment. It was necessary for them to keep up appearances in front of people who could see and talk but part of her liked to forget about this because it would ruin her.

“It certainly improved your behaviour,” she said drily as she smoothed a wrinkle out of her dress. “Now, if you’d please excuse me for a moment … I’ve business to tend to.”

“ _Liar_ ,” he said but the expression on his face did not change at all. He was nearly used to her not always telling the full truth and he had been the one to come up with the expression _‘heartbreak waiting to happen’_ in connection to her. She had nearly laughed back when she had heard it the first time but it would have been the world’s most bitter sound and so she had kept herself from doing so, had just smiled.

They might end up causing a scene, she realised as she turned to look at him, her eyes cold. “I usually don’t have to come up with a cheap excuse for me to get away from someone,” she said as she grabbed his wrist, her fan dangling of her own, before she dragged him into one of the darkened hallways that surrounded the ballroom. “Give me at least some credit.”

“The duke and the duchess, looking gorgeous as always,” Ivan’s father said as he stopped them, his face bearing a grin that was slightly lewd and far too familiar for Ur’s tastes. She could handle him, on most days. He was the father of her dear friend and he was a friend of the family and she knew better than to offend him but sometimes, she wanted to spill her drink on him. “I must ask, your graces, where are you two off to?”

Ur smiled as she pressed her fingertips together. “Ah, it has been a while, Lord Dreyar,” she said with a nod, silently asserting her higher rank and reminding him of his own standing. “The duke and I were on our way outside, I’m feeling a little unwell.”

It was a lie and a rather obvious one at that but the older earl did not share his son’s intelligence and so she was confident that she might just get away with it – especially since they had not spoken much since she had been a young girl and so he did not know how she lied.

“And as it’s dark outside, it’s very chivalrous of the duke to accompany you,” the old man said, his eyes glinting with yet another expression she did not like to see there. “We ought to keep the lady of the house safe, after all.”

“Exactly,” Silver replied without his usual smirk which would have given away the lie he had gotten caught up in – just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had dragged him into the mess when she had invited him and it was a minor miracle, that he had stayed, that he had not run for the hills the moment she had let him out of the music room. “We can’t have anyone getting any ideas.”

A part of her wanted to kiss him, proper behaviour be damned. She was not happy with this lack of self-control, especially considering that she had made her vows when she had married Bane and that the man was not under the earth yet, but she was going to block it out. She would not think about it and she would certainly not act upon it because she owned her family – and this included her dead father – to keep the family’s reputation unstained.

(Which did not mean that she had quite a few skeletons in her closet, that there were secrets she would rather not find in the society magazines all her maids were so absurdly fond of.)

She would have to schedule a meeting with him where it would truly be just the two of them, a meeting where they could discuss what they had been both hinting it all evening.

“If you’d excuse us now,” Silver continued politely as he nodded at the older man, his tone making it quite clear that he was not willed to start up a conversation. And then, they hurried down the hallway and up the stairs, her heart beating against her ribs like it was trying to escape her chest because this was crazy and wonderful.

“That was smooth,” she said as she walked ahead of him, pushing open the heavy doors as she passed them. “Thankfully, he knows better than to start up rumours.”

“Well, he knows better than to get into the way of your grandmother,” he said as he frowned, still following. “Which raises the question – where are we actually going? This doesn’t look like the way to the gardens to me, princess.”

It was the second slipup within the night and this time, it had been on purpose and he knew that she was aware of this. “With two people dead and having to maintain an act, I didn’t have the chance to check up on my most precious people yet,” she said as she mused if this was going to lead to the conversation she had been dreading for the better part of the past four years. She had decided to keep her secret exactly what it had been when she had wrapped her necklace around herself, four years ago. She had needed an accomplice, of course, and her grandmother had been perfect for this because no one had ever doubted her authority on anything. It had been a very risky thing to do but she had had nothing left to lose. She had gotten tired of the secrecy a while ago but there had been little room for her to erase the secrets from her life. Perhaps now would be a good time to be a bit more honest about events of the past.

She looked over her shoulder as she opened the last door that kept her apart from those she cherished most and she felt an unpleasant sting in her chest. Once upon a time, almost had been their always. They almost had ended up together before her father had renegotiated the arrangement with the Milkovich, ruining the almost-engagement between her and someone who would have known better to keep her locked away from the world in a chilly mansion in the south of the country.

(She was a northern woman by nature, she held little love for the south at all.)

But even now, she knew that almost would never cut it. It might have been easier for her if she had not known that her feelings were mutual but knowing this had broken her heart and a part of her had considered to just run.

“Don’t tell me we’re back to sneaking around,” Silver muttered under his breath as he stopped next to her, frowning at the way her hand had started to shake all of a sudden. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I,” she started, her heart beating so fast that it hurt. “I … I can’t do this.”

“Hey,” he said as he rested his hands on her shoulders, shaking her gentle. “Remember who you are. Right, you’re the kind of woman men would have waged war over in ancient days.”

She huffed, not flattered at all but merely offended. “One more comparison between me and some kind of trophy and I’ll have you locked up again,” she said but the brief flare of anger burned away whatever fear had and dread had been growing in her stomach and she realised that someone who knew to push her buttons with such ease knew all the little ways to snap her out of dark thoughts with ease.

“Ready to go?” he asked and she closed her eyes and straightened her spine before she grabbed his hand and pulled him into one of the deserted rooms.

“We’ve to talk first.”


	5. Chapter 5

** many days fell away with nothing to show **

* * *

 

Cornelia Alberona was reasonably underwhelmed by the Frost Estate and this had many reasons. First of all, one of the snobby, well-dressed guests was a murderer and had taken out a duchess’ husband and the woman’s father which would usually make her the main suspect – especially since the way the men had been killed was something a woman could pull off as well – but Duchess Ur was cleared of all suspicions regarding her because her alibi could be verified by no one less than Cornelia’s very own fiancé which made her an unlikely culprit.

She had helped her father with cases in the past and he had often called her a natural at his type of worked and it had made her feel so much pride because although it seemed to go out of fashion, she was close to her father and she usually did not quite understand why someone would murder the own parent.

Thankfully, this did not seem to be a discussion she would have with the duchess who was, according to the stories people told about her, very capable of holding her own in any kind of verbal argument. Not too long ago, one of Gildarts’ friends had remarked what an utter shame it was that women were kept out of politics as he would enjoy watching an argument between the duchess and her husband.

Between the woman who was widely known as the ice princess and the man who had been murdered in cold blood in his wife’s own estate – and this looked just as bad as it sounded.

She would have preferred to dance the night away with her fiancé but she had been called to the luxurious mansion – Meadow Hills was a gorgeous place – because there had been murders and the lady of the house was afraid of the scandal because while her family would recover from tragedy, it would be different if an actual scandal would occur.

(A good reputation and an unstained name was nearly as important to the noble families as wealth and a pretty house on the countryside where they could hold fancy balls.)

“It would be helpful,” she said as she covered the late duke’s face again with the white cloth, “if I could speak with the duchess. Maybe she knows who would have a reason—”

“ _Love_ ,” Gildarts started, his face sickly pale because the duke had been his foster father and he owned the man a lot. “Let me be honest with you – absolutely everyone has a reason to kill those two men. And I won’t deny that Ur would have had a strong motif.”

“Yes, Gildarts,” the brunette woman said, exasperation sneaking into her voice. “You keep saying this. But why? What would have been her reason to kill her father and her husband?”

“She had good reasons to dislike them both,” he replied as he shrugged. “I mean – she didn’t want to marry Milkovich … he isn’t a good person and she deserved better.”

“So she fought with her father about having to marry someone she disliked?” Cornelia asked as she paced around in the chilly room, the dress she had borrowed from the duchess’ mother rustling as she moved. “Wasn’t her marriage celebrated as the event of the decade?”

“When Ur came of age,” Gildarts said as he crossed his arms over his chest while his face was set in a purposefully stoic expression, “there were many rumours and speculations who she were to marry. And I suppose that much like me, she had her own ideas regarding the matter … and she favoured someone else.”

She hated it when he talked like he was conversing with one of the many nobles she had seen in the ballroom before he had whisked her away so that they could take a look at the dead bodies, bodies that had held a soul hours ago. When he acted like this, he was not the man she had met, the one she had fallen in love with. This was the marquees speaking, not Gildarts. And she loved Gildarts, the marquees was a stranger to her.

“She favoured the duke,” she said quietly. It would make sense, of course. She kept an eye on the dup earlier and the way they had behaved around each other had implied the past they shared – just like the fact that they had left together. “And it was mutual, I’d suppose.”

She was no fool and she had eyes, she could read people like open books and this included members of nobility. She recognised the face of a woman who was clinging to a kind of heartache to stay in control of herself everywhere and this had been the duchess’ facial expression half of the time, an expression easily mistaken for polite disinterest or stoicism.

“Of course it was mutual,” Gildarts said as he rolled his eyes, an odd expression of surrender briefly touching his face. “It took someone of extraordinary character to handle her then.” He hesitated for a moment before he shrugged and seemingly decided to send all rules of his society to hell. “Ur has been a bit of a mess after her older brother’s death,” he said as he bit his lip. “I mean – she was just outside the boat house when it went up in flames.”

She had done her reading when she had first become involved with the red-haired man and she remembered the story about the death of Carter Frost well because the incident had been investigated by her father, allowing her to access the files with relative ease. And she also remembered that it had been the duchess who had been the one to utter the suspicion that it might have been murder first. It had never been proven but there were always people who believed that it might be some sort of conspiracy against the Frost family because Carter Frost had been the heir to the title.

“It changed her,” the brunette said as she shuddered because suddenly, the room seemed cold as ice. “That’s what you mean, right? That she wasn’t always the one she’s now.”

“And people expected her to be someone who died the same day her brother did, yes,” Gildarts said while his face softened, turned into the one she was so accustomed to seeing by now. He was a kind man, warm-hearted and compassionate – a far cry away from the ice princess he called his sister and his most trusted friend. But maybe the difference was that while Gildarts had been allowed to fight for what he stood for, the duchess had been bound by her social standing and her gender for all her life.

“This has to be … sad,” Cornelia said as she gently pulled him out of the room. She had never been too fond of the high society, mostly because her mother had been an earl’s daughter who had run off with her father’s footman. It had been a scandal but her mother had refused to go back into a world that had suffocated her.

“Nearly tore her apart,” Gildarts said as they slipped back into the more crowded parts of the estate. “And that’s where I made a mistake, I tried to act like she was still the same.”

“It’s difficult to accept that someone who’s still around is also gone,” the woman said softly as she rested her hand on his shoulder before a frown crossed her face. “Where’s the duchess?”

The absence of the woman was most remarkable because it was her party and she should have been somewhere with her guests, chatting and dancing – being the proper lady she had been brought up to be. The lady of the house was someone who was, in spite of her lack of height and her petite form, not easily overlooked and as she had been wearing a rather unique silver dress, Cornelia was certain that she should be able to spot the other woman with relative ease. Given that she was there because even when Cornelia looked over the room a second time, she could not catch sight of the woman and this was getting worrisome, especially since the duke was missing as well.

“Milord,” one of the servants said as he tapped Gildarts’ shoulder and lowered his voice, briefly looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one else was listening. “Her grace appears to feel unwell … she requested for you and your fiancée to meet her in the library.”

“Of course,” Gildarts said as he offered Cornelia his arm and they walked away as fast as it was possible without attracting any attention. After all, they were still trying to catch a murderer.

“If she isn’t doing well, why does she want to see us?” Cornelia inquired as she followed him, her usual pace sabotaged by the shoes she was wearing – also buried from the duchess’ mother who was currently not aware of it. “Shouldn’t she be resting? Or calling the doctor? And why is the duke gone as well?”

“If Ur is really doing unwell, she’d hate to be alone,” Gildarts said as they turned a corner, his face covered in worry. “You see, she doesn’t like to rely on other people but … when she can no longer rely on herself, she does it nonetheless … and that’s just fine.”

He sounded like he was remembering events of the past and maybe, this was what happened indeed. He had spent many years as a foster child of the Frost family as his father had served in the same army division as the duchess’ father and this was certainly part of the reason why he was so loyal to the woman he had once called sister – something he still did when he was talking about childhood memories, always with the same fondness in his voice.

“We’ll find out in a few,” she muttered under her breath as he opened the door that was certainly the entrance to the library. The room itself was glamorous in an understated way. There were long shelves filled with thick books, some in foreign languages – which was unsurprising, the duchess’ grandmother was Icebergian royalty – and the entire room was cast in golden light which made it appear to be warm and homely. It was a place that subtly informed the observant of the family’s wealth because aside from the royal libraries, there was surely nothing that could compare to this sort of luxury – and she had seen enough private libraries in her lifetime to be able to estimate the value of the room and the estate and it was a shockingly high. The atmosphere in the room, however, was highly awkward. The duchess appeared to be flushed, perhaps even feverish, her cheeks reddened with something that was not embarrassment. The duke was standing by the window, his stance rigid and tense, and he clung to the windowsill like it was his only anchor.

Gildarts’ eyes widened and he locked the door behind them, a sigh leaving his lips. “You told him,” he said and something about the way he said it made it quite obvious that it had been a big revelation. “You went and told him.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to keep a secret of this _magnitude_!” she replied and the inspector’s daughter was certain that a lesser woman would have been crying because Gildarts appeared to be furious with her for some reason and he was terrifying when he was angry. “You have no idea what it’s like to remain silent about something that eats away your soul bit by bit, day for day.”

“Which was why you told me in the first place!” he replied, his voice sharper than usual. “So that I could carry your burden whenever it got a bit too heavy for you.”

“Can I be honest?” the duke asked as he turned around, the tension leaving his body. “I had suspected it anyway, she merely confirmed it for me.”

“Would you happen to have more insider knowledge, Fullbuster?” Gildarts snapped as the frustration he had to be feeling seeped out of him. “Some more aces up your sleeve? Like the identity of the murderer we’re chasing? If you’re so omniscient—”

“Gildarts, _please_ ,” the duchess said as she rose to her feet, her cheeks still burning. Her dark eyes were trained on Cornelia’s fiancé and for the first time, the brunette understood why Gildarts was not able to just flat-out abandon her with her scandal in the making. She dragged people in and made it impossible to get away from her ever again. But things like this was what made Cornelia wonder how the other woman slept at night. There had to be so many secrets she was keeping and although she trusted a select few with them, there were always surprises possible with her.

“Do not _‘Gildarts, please’_ me, Ur, I’m upset with you,” he replied as he massaged his temples before he sat down on the next chair, reaching out for Cornelia’s hand to hold it tightly between his own hands. “I thought we were on the same page in all of this.”

“We are,” she replied, hurrying to reassure him of whatever she had likely hurt, before she twirled around to face the duke. “And what do you mean, you knew it?”

“That I’m not quite as oblivious as you thought me to be, apparently,” the man replied as he shrugged, his eyes focused on her silver-clad shape. There was a distinct vibe of disappointment in his voice but it would take a bit more effort on his part to mask that whatever the duchess felt for him, he felt the same way about her and although he was angry, it had not angered him enough to leave her alone.

“I cared,” the woman whispered as she clung to the next shelf and something in her trembling voice told so much more than what she actually said. “I cared so much, I _swear_.”

“I know,” the duke replied as he looked away from her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “There was never a trace of doubt about this in me, I promise. Just … _you left_.” He surely meant _you left me_ but he was certainly too proud to say this and he did not have to say it out loud because everyone could hear what he was silently adding anyway. “I knew you would but … I had _hoped_.”

“I suppose I don’t have to remind you that no one but you two cares about this right now, yes?” Gildarts interrupted, his voice just as sharp as before. “I know what they say, that things can be spoken in the darkness that can’t be said during the day but … remember: murderer, on the loose, likely still in the estate.”

Cornelia was sufficiently impressed by her fiancé’s assertive behaviour because it certainly took a mixture of guts and foolishness to get into the way of what appeared to be a love confession of sorts. Or maybe not a confession but merely a reassurance that all feelings were still what they had been in days of the past.

“Way too ruin the mood,” the duke muttered before he finally took note of the fourth person in the room. “This has to be the fiancée, then? She looks like she’s smarter than you.”

“She is,” Gildarts admitted as he grinned ever so slightly at the other man. “In any case, Ur, now that your mind is cleared … any idea what might connect the both murders?”

“I’ll go looking for some alcohol,” the duke of Gentiana said casually as he patted the duchess’ shoulder in passing, an affectionate gesture that was not lost to Cornelia, “and, Clive, make sure that everyone gets comfortable while we’re thinking. I think if yet another person calls me _‘your grace’_ today, I’ll actually kill someone.”

“You shouldn’t have said that out loud, Silver,” the duchess admonished with a tinge of amusement in her voice before she turned her attention towards the sole stranger in the room. “I’d much prefer for you to just call me Ur, though,” she pondered aloud. “After all, you’re to marry my brother.”

“Ah, thank you for your kindness, milady,” Cornelia said as she curtsied swiftly. “Being around all those people made me a bit nervous if I’m entirely honest.”

“Understandable,” the duchess said with a warm smile before a frown appeared on her face as she seemed to hear something. “Silver?” she called out, worry crossing her face. “Is everything alright with you?”

“No need to worry about me, princess, but it looks bad for my suit,” the man replied as he reappeared, the bottle of whiskey he had gone to fetch safely in his hand while his jacket looked like it had been slashed. “I could fight the attacker off, _no need to worry_ ,” he added, emphasising his last words. “Also, the killer seems to pick his victims for a reason … because when he saw who I was, he left because I am apparently not the right one. Can you imagine that?” he scoffed, putting the bottle down with more force than necessary. “That the day came on which someone claims that I’m not his type? I’m everyone’s—”

 _“Shut up,”_ the duchess – Ur – interrupted him harshly before she briefly kissed him on the cheek before she brushed her lips over his. “So, whoever the killer is, he has a pattern.”

Cornelia was not quite sure how to handle a woman who had lost her husband mere hours ago and was now kissing her suitor from days in the past but she decided that it was surely the best for her not to comment on it and just accept it as part of her reality.

“Can you two please stopping, well, yourselves for a moment and let’s talk about this, yes?” Gildarts said as he reached into the next sideboard and pulled out four glasses. “So … the killer has to be aware of the secret passages inside the estate, yes?”

“It’s the only way he’d be able to sneak up on me, yes,” the duke said as he reached for one of the glasses and took a first sip before he frowned at the silent woman by his side. “Come to think of it, the passage ways can be accessed from the outside as well, right?”

“Yes,” she said as she spun the glass in her hands and watched how the amber liquid swirled inside of the crystal glass before she gazed at him for a moment, her eyes briefly giving away that she was still very worried about him and for a moment, Cornelia mused about a fact that should have attracted her attention earlier: with the way Lord Milkovich had kept his wife away from the world and the fact that the duke had been disinvited from many social events after his wife’s death for them reason, it had surely been quite some time since Ur – it would take a while to get used to this name – and the duke had seen each other and surely far longer since they had last been alone with each other.

But maybe, the black-haired woman had shown more resolve than any soldier, maybe she had never quite given up on her hope that one day, she might be free enough to choose love – and it was love – over the duty she believed to have towards her family. Maybe she had been too busy being in love with the duke to even consider falling for someone else.

“Oh, wonderful,” Gildarts muttered as he glared at the carpet like it was the murderer. “We have a murdered who can get to any place of the estate unseen within minutes.”

“Oh, this is problematic,” Ur muttered as she sat down on the chaise longue again, her ankles crossed and her lips pursed. “But why does a murderer who killed both my husband and my father let someone he knows I’ve been … involved with alone?”

“You sound like you regret that I wasn’t killed,” the black-haired man huffed as he dragged her back to her feet. “We should investigate the scene a bit, I suppose.”

Cornelia nearly rose from her chair as well before she saw Gildarts shaking his head ever so slightly. Therefore, she just raised her eyebrow at her fiancé, asking a silent question.

“They need a moment to themselves,” he explained with a shrug, amusement written all over his face. “I don’t see him getting away with knowing about her secret and never telling her so easily, you know?!

“What secret, though?” she inquired although a part of her dreaded the answer. If there was no problem whatsoever for the duchess to admit that she had been involved with someone who was not her husband, a secret she had kept so carefully was surely a dark one.

“That he is – _thankfully,_ in my humble opinion – the father of her twins,” he replied casually.


	6. Chapter 6

**for it's you that i'd die to defend**

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Cornelia had emptied her glass of whiskey and had started to read in an old edition of her favourite book when she heard the duke and the duchess fighting over something that made no sense whatever to her but apparently, Gildarts knew more than her because he looked like he would pay money just to get away from this situation.

“…I can’t think when you look at me like that!” Ur snapped as she threw up her hands, frustration written all over her face. “I am sorry, Silver, but really, what are you doing?”

And the act was slipping away from her, much to Cornelia’s interest. The woman who had appeared to be frozen whenever she had been seen somewhere for such a long time now was suddenly faced with a mask that was crumbling and no red lipstick and no makeup could cover this up. But it was not like she was falling apart beneath the surface. She had been in some kind of cocoon and she was about to leave it, she was about to be reborn as someone vastly different from who she had been in the past. The ice princess was melting, was becoming someone else, someone who was more than just the empty façade of a polite noblewoman. She had an attitude that had been sharpened along the years and combined with her prize-winning smile, she was dangerous – and this was surely what Gildarts had meant when he had implied that it took someone of equal temper to handle her because she would tear everyone else apart in midair.

“The ice princess finally shows her claws once again,” the duke replied with a vague smirk on his face as he led her over to the couch, his steps bouncing because he was way too carefree, especially considering that the murderer was still on the loose. “I had feared that we’d have to sacrifice someone to invoke your spirits, Ur.”

“You’re a horrible person,” the woman said as she pressed her lips together, probably to hide her amused smirk. She was difficult to read, even for Cornelia, but the same went for the duke as well. The black-haired woman had had quite an interesting reputation back in the days. First of all, touching her always resulted in massive burns because she was not the kind to play nicely when she felt offended. Secondly, there was the ice princess myth that surrounded her. Of course, as the daughter of one of the most prestigious families of the northern part of the country, the association with winter and ice had never been far off but there was allegedly more to it. Namely, her supposedly inhuman tolerance for the cold which was something Cornelia would like to ask about but she did not quite dare to as this was personal.

“And that’s exactly what you appreciate,” he replied with a wink that would have made most people blush. “Anyway, you got to admit that it would make sense, all of it.”

“I know how much you _love_ ghost stories, Silver, but you surely don’t believe that my brother is back from the death to murder people,” she said with a scoff and a roll of her eyes but as her mask had begun to crack, there was a vibe of uncertainty she could not wipe away so easily, that trapped her within the situation.

“I actually doubt he ever died in the first place,” the man replied with a shrug, mentioning towards the walls. “Carter was my age, you know? I knew him rather well.”

“Our paths crossed during his funeral,” the woman replied as she absentmindedly reached out for Gildarts, tugging on his sleeve with a questioning expression on her face.

“Thing is,” the duke continued, “that a dead man doesn’t have to fear the consequences of killing his father and his brother-in-law.”

“And an unknown third person he mistook you for,” Cornelia added, musing if they were serious about the option of having a killer who was technically dead on the loose. If it was indeed their best bet, if the duchess’ brother had faked his own death all those years ago, they might be in even bigger trouble than they had assumed so far because someone who had suffered an accident that had perhaps not been an actual accident would surely have a motif.

“It makes no sense whatsoever,” Ur argued as she looked at Gildarts, her eyes pleading him to come to her help because she was hell-bent on denying the very possibility.

“It actually kind of does,” Gildarts finally replied as he reached for his foster sister’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Your brother loved you dearly, Ur. He certainly would kill for you.”

“Always told you that you had the kind of face to lead a good man astray,” the duke quipped but the comment was not appreciate whatsoever by the lady who looked at him like she had just put him onto her personal death list. “But … even if Carter is the killer who takes out people who are quite unpleasant, what’s his motif?”

“Well, as you said, the victims were unpleasant men,” Cornelia said with a shrug, her fingers entwined and her hands resting in her lap. “But I suppose that simply being unpleasant hasn’t gotten anyone killed so far. There’d be the option of revenge for whatever happened to him.”

“First of all, if someone would manage to be unpleasant enough to get killed for that alone, my dearest darling husband would manage that,” the duchess said, venom dripping off her voice, as she released Gildarts’ hand to reach for the duke’s instead, her own shaking for a moment. “Secondly, unless you were his son, my father was not kind either.”

“We have a killer who – although he had optimal chances – murdered neither Ur nor me,” the black-haired man said as he ran his thumb over the duchess’ wrist. The way he behaved around her was odd, even in Cornelia’s book because he had never had the reputation of being a flawless gentleman. If the brunette remembered matters correctly, he had had a reputation of being an incorrigible womaniser. “Either, we weren’t up on the list yet or we’re both safe,” he added.

“You wouldn’t bring up the option of it being Ur’s deceased older brother for no good reason,” Gildarts said as he raised an eyebrow, his face entirely serious. “So you better spill it.”

“Whoever the killer is must know exactly how to use the secret passages,” the woman said quietly, her gaze trained on the man who had brought the inane idea up in the first place, her eyes carrying an odd mixture of softness and sadness. “And … the house that burned down, the house in which my brother died … was connected to the tunnels.”

She was talking about insider knowledge, about things only people would know who knew the place well, who had perhaps grown up in it. People like her, people like members of her family and close friends. And if one of the many conspiracy theories was true and the fire had not been an accident but an attempt on murder, this might help to construct a world in which Carter Frost, son and heir of his family, first in line to all of his father’s titles, would use the fact that he was officially dead to take down people who had, in some way, harmed his younger sister. Although even when it was the supposedly dead duke, there was certainly more to it than a trip to revenge for whatever had really happened on the day he had died by crossing off, one by one, people who had hurt Ur.

“And,” the duchess went on while her voice shook for the first time since Cornelia had met her, “there is … the fact that … we never found a body. Or at least never one that could have been identified … so God knows who is buried in that grave.”

“We’re not digging it up to check,” the duke of Gentiana said instantly, shuddering as he spoke. “Seriously, I’m down for a lot of crazy stuff … chasing a killer. But we won’t—”

“We get your point,” Cornelia said with an understanding nod as she thought about what she had just learned. After Carter Frost’s supposed death, it had been the duchess who had mentioned that she had tried to get into the boat house to help and that she had not been able to open the door before she had been dragged away from the fire by a servant. This had actually been a statement she had later revoked under the claim of not remembering clearly but she might have been pressured into doing this to prevent a scandal for her family or to cover up a murder that had been ordered by a member of her family, likely her father. But then, there was the offhanded statement she had made a few moments ago about how her father had always favoured her brothers over her.

“Good,” Silver Fullbuster said with a crooked smirk, “because – Carter was a good man.”

“Who might have turned into the killer who murdered two people,” Gildarts said, his face grim.

“Even if it was him, he is still my older brother,” Ur said calmly as she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “We can’t forget about it – he might have been a victim first.”

A part of Cornelia wanted to agree but while this might explain what had happened, it would hardly excuse the fact that two men were dead. And this was where she was drawing the line. Carter Frost had to be stopped because if he continued, he would ruin everything.

“I’ll follow the passage,” the duchess said as she removed her hand from the grip of whoever was holding onto it now and got up. “I suppose it’s the only option we have … I’ll track my brother down and talk with him about this.”

It was madness and yet, she was right. They did not have any other options. The murderer had proven that he had no interest in harming her and so it would be safe for her to go and talk to him, for her to investigate what the killer wanted. She was supposed to be skilled at making negotiations so she should even be able to do something about the murders.

“I don’t allow you to do this,” the duke said as he jumped to his feet and reached for her hand again to hold her back. “You are banking on something that has no valid proof, princess!”

“Then it’s probably for the better that I wasn’t asking for anyone’s permission, Silver,” she replied as she glared at him, her anger tangible because no matter how much she loved him, she was not going to let him decide her life. She was a woman standing on her own two feet and even though she was surely interested in rekindling whatever they had had, he did not own her and she would always remind him. Maybe it was important to notice that they were both stubborn enough to know better than to try owning another person.

“You can’t go and gamble on your own life,” he replied as he tried to reach for her again but her glare stopped him. She was not dainty little noblewoman and whoever had likened her to a shining star had been right in a way that had surely not been intended because she was fierce and Cornelia was nearly sure that there was liquid fire in her veins – cold fire but fire nonetheless – because she would not look into his November grey eyes and swoon.

He was on fire too, they had both been set aflame with the same cold fire, and this was probably why they went along so well. They knew storm and they knew rain, ice and snow – they knew how this world really was. But for some reason, they were too in love – even after all those years – to care much about the way that it might ruin them both.

“What are we supposed to tell your – _our_ – children when you die?” he snapped at her.

“ _If_ I die, _love_ , if I die,” she corrected with a smirk as she led them through the library until they reached the entrance to the secret hallway, “then I expect you that one day, you’ll tell them the complete truth – up to where their mother could not stand the idea of something murdering everyone she ever cared about.” She stopped herself as the entrance opened and the smell of darkness enveloped them. “And that sometimes, sacrifices are necessary.”

“It shouldn’t have to be you,” he replied as he shook his head ever so slightly. “I knew him too.”

“I wish no one had to do this,” she replied as she rested her hand in his neck and kissed his forehead tenderly, “but when we were younger, you always tried to protect me … and I’d say that this time around, it’s my turn to keep you safe.”

The man opened his mouth once or twice, reaching for her hand to told it for a moment but it seemed like he was not sure how to argue with her logic without upsetting her – and no one wanted to hurt the one they loved. “I still remember how we first met,” the duke said seriously as he stared into the darkness behind the panel, his face serious as he held onto the woman’s wrist. “Carter always said that his little sister was pretty … I always thought that he was, well, not directly lying but that he talked about you the way all older brothers who adore their baby sisters talk about them.” He stopped for a moment and bit his lip before he shifted his gaze to look at her. “I believed that he just being nice, you know?”

“You have been more charming in the past,” she replied after a moment of awkward silence as she twisted her wrist so that she could hold his hand as well. “But I understand what you mean … I wasn’t out yet, hadn’t had my first season…”

“And, I mean, the situation really didn’t call for it,” Lord Fullbuster went on as he shrugged, his grin returning to his face, “but I saw you standing there, tiny and fragile like a bird. You were pretty but you were also kinda intimidating.”

And Cornelia could imagine the scenery very well all of a sudden. She could imagine the duchess in younger years, dressed into her mourning clothes, pale and small compared to her majestic grandparents but so very beautiful. Everyone kept saying that it was wrong to romanticise sadness but it had certainly been a lingering impression the sixteen year old duchess had left on her older brother’s friend during the funeral.

“You were terrifying at the time,” Gildarts said with a shrug as he reached into the sleeve and pulled out a knife which he handed to the duchess without much of a comment.

“I think you were the only debutante of your year who didn’t throw herself at me,” the black-haired man said with a smirk before he reached out, cupping the side of her face, and looked at her seriously. “If you’re scared…”

“I’m not,” she replied as she rested her hand against his, her smile a bit crooked. “I wasn’t the one to be all choked up when we first started to talk after the funeral … that was you, right? But I’ll be careful.”

“You are cruel,” he accused before he bent down and kissed her soundly, right onto the lips. It was something he really should not be doing but he seemed to be counting on the discretion of the witnesses and their interesting in keeping the duchess out of trouble. “Also, for the record, I sounded all choked up because the thoughts I was thinking weren’t suited for the funeral of my friend and shouldn’t have been thought about his baby sister either.”

“Make sure to tell me about those thoughts when I get back,” she replied as she laced her fingers through his for a moment and squeezed them gently, her smile still a little crooked. “So, I’ll get going now … see what it takes for me to get my brother to stop killing people.”

And Cornelia knew that the duke would not go away from the entrance to the secret passage until she got back, no matter how bad it smelled and no matter how much easier it would be to wait someone else. One should think that after the years he had spent waiting on something to happen, he would have learned patience but it did not look like he was willed to wait a long time before he would go after her.

And then, the woman was gone and Gildarts sighed deeply before he looked at Lord Fullbuster, disapprovement written all over his face. “You know that she’ll be expected to mourn Milkovich for two years, right?” he started as he bit his lip and sighed again. “Not to do so would cause exactly the scandal we aim to prevent so desperately.”

“I know,” the duke replied as his eyes narrowed. “After all, I had etiquette lessons.”

“Wouldn’t there be the option of her having to remarry swiftly to have someone take care of her and her children?” Cornelia asked innocently and tried not to laugh at the choking noises that suddenly came from the duke who seemed not to have considered this before.

“You mean, given that her father died as well,” Gildarts mused aloud as he uncrossed his arms. “Well, her grandparents are rather old so they can’t be expected to take care of her – not that she needs someone to do so – and Lyon is too young … I suppose I might end up being put on the spot by our society as her foster brother.”

Cornelia could hear in his voice how little he liked this idea and how much he despised the way their society treated women like they were worthless unless a man was handling their affairs – especially since some women were very good at handling their own business.

“…you know what I’m going to say now, right?” the duke asked darkly as he crossed his arms.

“That if I get her to marry some sort of Milkovich II, you’ll personally murder me and not even try to make it look like an accident?” Gildarts asked as he raised both eyebrows at the other man before he rolled his eyes. “You can relax, I’m highly invested in her happiness. And for some reason I can’t comprehend, you make her happy … so if she still wants you, she can have you.”

“Jeez, I understand even better now why she hates it when someone likens her to a trophy, it really, _really_ sucks,” the duke muttered before he rolled his eyes.


End file.
